The wall
by Anonemity
Summary: Possible RoryJessorphan moves to stars hollow thing. Depends on your lovely comments. Characters slightly OOC, but only enough to compensate for their AU situations.
1. Chapter 1

She couldn't even count them anymore, and she had long since ceased to place them in orderly lines. Her wall was marked in inky black lines, and she threw down her sharpie with disgust after adding yet another. How many days had she been in the orphanage? She couldn't even imagine; it had been years. Occasionally she was transferred from one foster home to another, but the families always sent her back here. It seemed she was difficult to deal with.

The only silver lining she could think of was that they always returned her to the same room. It was supposed to provide normalcy to her world, at least, that was the theory. Rory didn't know if it was true or not, but she did appreciate that she neverhad to start another wall. She could just pick up where she left off, filling any empty space she could find with yet another black stain.

"Ror, what are you doing?" Anne asked, leaning against the door of Rory's room. Most of the girls didn't have their own room, but Rory was somewhat of a veteran at Stonehinge Orphanage.

"None of your business." Rory responded absently, still looking at the bricks in front of her.

"That stupid wall is going to get you in trouble. It's _vandalism_." Anne's sour breath stagnated in the air and Rory stood up from her cot.

"Do you want something?" she asked tartly.

"Why do you even do it?" The girl whined petulantly. Rory turned back to the stark white wall, thinking out loud.

"It's a count up." she said, half to herself. "It don't know when I'm getting out of here, but I'm definitely getting out, and when I do, I'm going to college." Anne snorted behind her and Rory turned once more to fix her with a cold stare.

"What, Harvard again? Never gunna happen, hun. Your have no money."

"Don't call me hun, Anne, you're thirteen." Rory retorted, and stormed past the girl and into the hall. It was filled with the clamour of children with nothing to do. Rory made her way to the caretakers lounge and carefully peeked into the wire rimmed window. The room was empty but for one man, sipping coffee at a pressboard table. Rory opened the door and shut is slowly behind her.

"Hey, Albert, is Mrs. Marsha here?" she asked.

"Nooooope," he announced through a toothy grinn, "She's gone for the day, visiting family in the city." Rory smiled and took a seat next to the bald cook and leaned back, propping her feet up on the table. She looked critically at the socks poking out from beneath her jeans. They were mismatched. She sighed.

"So, how are the studies going?" he asked after a long, satisfied sip from his mug.

"Pretty well, i scored a 772 on the SAT2 this week." Rory announced.

"Which one?"

"March 1999 Literature." She said, and he nodded happily.

"You always were good with words."

"When can I get my next test?" She asked eagerly.

"Oh, I'll have one in a day or so." he emptied his mug and looked sadly into it. "Can you make another pot?" he asked her, his wide eyes blinking.

"Again?"

"You make it best!" he cried, flinging his arms wide and grinning widely. She took his cup and walked over to the coffeepot.

"Do you think you'll have the test by tomorrow?" she asked again.

"You know, you're going to run out of sample tests eventually." he informed her. She doubted it. Even if she did, she could always start taking ACT tests. It was the only way she could teach herself. She knew the school at her orphanage was barely more than a formality. Nothing that place taught her would ever get her into Harvard, unless they offered a major in basket weaving.

It disgusted her, the way Stonehinge gave up on it's tennants. The only way she coul measure herself to the outside world was by teaching herself, and constantly checking herself with standardized tests. She didn't actually know if it would help her, but it was sure worth a try. Albert worked as a cook, but had once pushed pencils for a record filing company for the SATs. He always found extra tests lyring around, though for the lifeod her Rory could not figure out how.

She finished making a fresh pot of coffee and hid the emptying bag of Asian pacific.

"Go for the Ethiopian sidamo next week, this one's not dark enough." Rory instructed, covering the bag and closing the drawer before moving the toaster in front of it. The regular coffee was Folgers, and was what the rest of the staff drank, but Rory turned up her nose at that swill. She and Albert worked out a lovely deal; he bought the coffee, and she brewed it for him. He couldn't list the pot of water, his limbs grew too weal with age. Rory wondered idly why this didn't impair him more as a cook.

"Why did you put your hair up?" he asked suddenly.

"Um..."

"You should leave it down more. Here." he reached up and pulled her pony tail holder off, and adjusted her brown locks. "Lovely, lovely." he smacked his denchures together. Rory smiled at the familiar argument. She hated the way her hair got in her face, but he always insisted she leave it alone, and made a habit of stealing her hair holders.

"Albert, you're just obsessed with my hair becuase you don't have any." Rory smiled, and the old man patted his head, his hand making a smacking sound on the bare skin.

"At least I don't have to wear a hairnet."

* * *

**So last story, Rory lost Lorelai. Im thinking man, that blows, everyone deserves a Lorelai. So in this story, she gets one.**

**Should I continue this? I wasn't sure how much to write becuase Im not sure if I'll continue with this. I guess it depends on you guys. Know that if I do, it will be a Rory/Jess--fitting, right? Hmm? I don't know.**

**Comments make a difference here... **


	2. Chapter 2

Seven Forty Nine. Terrible. Rory shook her head in disgust. The worst score she'd recieved in weeks. It was fitting, she mused, that her perfect day would end so perfectly. Mrs. Marsha had thrown another fit about Rory's long shower habits, and when she had returned to her room from Punitive Hall, she had found Anne working vigorously to wash her Wall.

"What do you think you're doing!" She had shrieked, running into to room and kicking the bucket of soapy water over. The contents spilled out over the floor, drenching the ends of her jeans. Perfect.

"It's against the rules!" Anne had protested. Rory threw the girl out of her room and slammed the door shut. She let out a long breath and flung herself onto her bed, and flipped open her SAT booklet.

Now she lay looking at the test score, clicking her tongue in disgust. She glanced up at the wall opposite her. She hadn't looked at it since she threw Anne out, nor made any attempts to salvage it. Now her eyes moved slowly over it's entirity, and a slow grin crept onto her lips. The lines were still there. Apparently all Anne had managed before she was caught were several sad smudges, lost in a sea of ink.

Rory stood and approached the bricks, gently running a hand over the rough surface. Her feet were cold.

She looked down to see that the water from the bucket was still spewed over her floor, and the icy trickle soacked through her threadbare socks and the tattered edges of her jeans. She sighed. Perfect. Just perfect. She couldn't explain what had put her in such a terrible mood. Honestly, today wasn't that much worse than any other day at Padison's Home for Misplaced Children. She had just woken up this morning on the wrong side of the bed, that was all. Rory sighed and grabbed a towel from the laundry hamper, and kneeled to the unpleasent task of mopping up the frigid water.

"Rory," Mrs. Marsha's voice came from the doorway. Rory looked up at the woman. She was one of those too-put-together people. If the orphanage was a neighborhood, she would be president of the homeowner's assosiation. Heeled loafers sheathed eggshell hose, covering legs up until the knee. Mrs. Marsh never wore skirts at any other length. Her hair was pinned up in a bun at all times, and small golden earings adorned her ears. Rory tried to think back to a time when Mrs. Marsha went on vacation. She couldn't think of any.

"Yeah?" She asked, finishing up her cleaning job.

"Yes."

"What?"

"The correct word it 'yes'." Once, Rory would have rolled her eyes at this. However, long years spent here had led her to pity the woman. This was her entire life. If correcting the grammar of an unwanted child made her happy, who was Rory to get in the way of that?

"Yes?" She corrected herself.

The older woman searched for some trace of flippancy on the girls face. Finding none, she continued. "We're having another Meet and Greet. We've finally collected enough people willing to adopt to have one. Get dressed, change you clothing. And for goodness sakes, brush your hair.

Rory's eyebrows raised slightly. "It's today?"

"In a couple hours. Do wear that pink blouse, it's the only respectable piece of clothing you have." With that, she turned on her heel and walked down the hall to tell the rest of the children. Her shoes clicked qiuetly as she walked, muffled by the grime on the hallway floor. Rory closed her door and locked it, and flopped back down onto her bed.

-

"Yes sir, I am planning on attending college. I--" Rory stopped speaking the hand held up by the candidate she was talking to.

"You look like a lovely girl, but we really want to adopt someone younger. You understand." His wife nodded sympathetically. Rory nodded politely and the couple moved on. She sighed. They were the third couple that night to pass her by because of her age. She walked around idly, and eventually sat down near the wall. She gazed into the throng of faces dispondently. It was hopeless to expect someone to adopt her at this point. She should just wait out the two years and go to college on her own.

"Why the long face?" A voice came up next to her, and a woman sat down to her right. She had piercing blue eyes, but wore a friendly smile.

"Just waiting until this is over. Maybe it's the shirt. I should have worn a normal one." Rory glanced down in dusgust at the frilly thing on her chest. "I'm too old for this crap."

"Oh? I was actually looking for an older kid to adopt." The woman said, and Rory raised one eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Oh, you know, less diapers to change."

"Oh, you assume too much."

"And a sense of humor. You don't get that in a baby."

"I've only got two good years left in me before I leave for college."

"Good! Quit salting my game." Rory couldn't help it any more. She let her faltering grin creep onto her face. The woman held out her hand.

"I'm Lorelai Gilmore." She introduced herself.

Rory shook her hand. "Rory." She said. Lorelai paused.

"Just Rory?"

"It's more than enough." She replied evenly. She wasn't in the right mood to say more. The woman nodded.

"Vamp nail polish?"

"Skanky."

"Coffee?"

"Makes the world go round."

"Favorite move?"

"Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory."

"College?"

"Harvard."

"Career?"

"Stripper."

"Really?"

"Journalist."

"Where do I sign?" Rory let her grinn spread from ear to ear.

"I'll go get Mrs. Marsha."


	3. Chapter 3

Rory stared at the wall in front of her. The inky stains danced and pixelated before her eyes and she let her mind wander idly. She was sixteen. Even if things went awry with Lorelai as they had with every other family she had stayed with, there was a very likely chance that she would never come back to this room. Behind her she heard the soft patter of footsteps, followed by the familiar silence that always came when Anne leaned on her door.

"Hey," she said, not looking back at the girl.

"Hey." Anne echoed. Rory stepped forward and placed her fingers on the brick, and slowly let her hand fall. Fingertips brushed the surface and she sighed happily.

"I won't get rid of it when your gone...you know...if you need to come back." Rory bit her lip and turned around.

"Thanks," she said. "You get picked?" Anne smiled a little, a tense sort of grimace that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Not today."

"You will."

"Yeah," Anne cleared her throat unconfortably, "I know." After a minute of silence, Rory turned back to the wall. She heard Anne leave behind her.

-

Stars Hollow. Friendly, idiosyncratic, quant. Apparently, Rory had landed herself the little house with the picket fence. Hell, she'd found the little town with the picket fence. She walked through the square in the center of town, letting the scent of grass and snow engulf her senses. Wait. She smelled something else. Rory tore her eyes from the Gazebo and looked in the direction her nose demanded.

"Are you coming?" Lorelai asked her. She smiled and gestured to follow her into the little windowed building. The image hit Rory's sockets like an electric plug. The grinning waving woman, her blue eyes glittering with youth before her years. The ominously gray sky, the people bustling by. Occasionaly one gave her a puzzled stare. She was sure there was a skinny man was standing not twenty feet away from her, taking turns looking at her through a set of binoculars and writing down notes on a crumpled bit of paper.

She assumed that one was a hallucination and walked towards her new caretaker.

Through the belled glass door was a small diner, filled to the brim with what could only be described as townsfolk. The aroma of java brewing was overpowering now, wafting over to Rory mingled with bacon and maple syrup following close behind. Lorelai walked up to the counter, and Rory followed right behind her. It took a while for a man clad in plaid and denim to greet her.

"Coffee?" The man set a mug on the counter without awaiting an answer.

"Yes please Luke my dear, you will never believe what I did last night."

"Cn' I help you?" Luke turned to Rory, and she opened her mouth to explain. She was cut off.

"See I decided to go shopping, isn't that fascinating. I decided to go shopping and I didn't like any of the shoes I saw, so I came home with a daughter instead."

Luke stared at Lorelai for a moment. His eyes fought the urge, but eventually flicked over to Rory questioningly.

"Hi." She said, smiling a little. He opened his mouth once, and closed it.

Then, "Coffee?" Rory nodded and sat next to Lorelai as her cup was set on the counter and poured.

The trio sat for a while in silence, the air growing in intensity and awkwardness. Rory gave up.

"Can I get this to go?" She asked the plaid clad man, Luke, if she remembered right. "I thought I saw a bookstore down the street." The man nodded and replaced her cup, and she thanked him and left the small diner. She could tell when people needed space, and was never one to impose herself on others privacy. After only several minutes of walking, she reached the store.

-

"Lor..." Lukes voice was disapproving.

"What?" She asked defiantly.

"Impulse buying a kid?"

"I impulse bought a kid once!" A tall gangly man suddenly interjected from the seat over. "My mom made me give it back, though."

"Kirk! Go away!" Luke redirected his dissapproval.

"She said she the smell of the goat feed made her hyperventalate."

"Kirk!"

"I loved lil Buck, but my mom said it wouldn't be happy in the garage anyway."

"KIRK!" Luke barked. The wane man balked and huffed.

"Fine, some service. I'm going to lodge a complaint." Luke stared him down without an answer until he gathered up his awkward collection of newspapers and post-it notes, and slammed the belled door on his way out.

"Lorelai." He turned his attention back to her, even as she tried to slouch into the counter until the point of disappearing.

"Luke, please don't." she said, her voice quiet, tired.

"This isn't gonna go away when you get bored, you know."

"I know."

"Is this about Christopher?"

Lorelai's eyes flashed with anger and she sat up straighter in her seat. "Don't, Luke. Don't go there. I am very happy being at a place that isn't...there."

"This is a _person_, Lorelai. A human being."

"Really?" She snapped sardonically, "I thought she was a puppy."

"You can't do this alone."

"If I remember correctly, I'm not the only one who decided to take on a teenager out of the blue."

Luke snorted indignantly. "That's different."

"How?"

"My sister needed help. I didn't grab him off a sales rack."

"Clearance, actually," she flipped her hair, "No charge. Just lot's of paperwork."

"This isn't a joke, Lorelai."

"I know, Luke! I know! I know I...I need this."

"Does she? Does she want your baggage?"

"She needs a home, Luke, and a mom. I don't think the baggage outweighs that."

"And you're going to be that? A mom?" Lorelai's eyes lost some of their conviction, and she glanced away after a moment of thought. She could feel Luke's eyes continuing to bore into her, and tried her very best to ignore the discomfort. She sipped at her coffee.

-------------------------

**Alright guys, here's the thing. I believe this story can go places--I am already mapping out plans for Rory and Jess, who will by the way meet next chapter, which I have already started. However, I'm not sure how high a demand this story will have, and I'm not sure about how constant I will be in updating. I have a very busy schedule planned once the fall starts, so all I can promise is my best effort.**

** Oh and sorry about the length of the chapter (or lack thereof, anyway), this was a very fast paced sort of idea and I felt it needed a fast paced sort of read time.**

**Please let me know what you guys think? **


	4. Chapter 4

The bookstore was empty. Strange, in Rory's mind, though she wasn't sure exactly why. She had spent most of her life amongst other children. Children everywhere, children aof all ages. She had learned to drown out and ignore the constant chatter, the laughter and the crying. Now the air itself barely whispered in her ears, and the world felt somehow hollow.

It was nice.

She walked the wooden floor, up and down each isle, taking her time. The boards creaked in protest at every imprint of her feet, but it didn't feel wrong or loud. She was sure the owner of the store wasn't hising in a corner--silence like this could only be caused by legitimate emptiness. She let her fingers follow her eyes over the endless spines of dusty books, taking in their texture with their title. She inhaled lightly, enjoying the scent of so many pages in one place. No matter where her life took her, this smell remained the same. In a world of change and uncertainty, this was her constant.

She heard the door open, and somebody entered the shop. She kept walking, quietly disappointed that the world had returned to normal with the arrival of another person. As she walked slowly down the isle, she noticed that the newcomers footsteps were echoing hers on the other side of the wooden shelf. She ignored it, pausing to pull out a book and look through it. Her eyes drifted over the page, then back up to the empty space where the book had sat a moment ago. A pair of dark eyes peered at her. When her eyes met them, they smirked a little and disappeaed. Her follower was walking once again. She replaced the book and started moving. She raked the floor with her gaze, and just barely, through the holes between books, could make out two converse clad feet walking in unison with her own.

She wasn't the sort to play games. Instead of continuing this puzzling pattern, she strode briskly to the end of the bookshelf and rounded the corner. She found herself face to face with a character, for lack of better description.

He had the dark hair, dark eyes. Skinny torn jeans and a bandshirt matched a sarcastic expression and calculating gaze. He was so much a caricature that Rory almost smiled, almost. Instead--

"What do you want?" she asked directly, staring straight at him.

"Pardon?" He asked innocently. She didn't buy it for a second.

"Why are you stalking me? Or are you actually looking to read about childbirth?" He glanced at the title over his head, labeling the section they stood in. He grinned.

"Observant one, aren't you?"

"Thinking about having a baby?"

"I don't believe I've seen you here before."

"You don't say."

"In a town with population twelve, it's the sort of thing you notice."

"Gee, I'm flattered." Rory deadpanned.

"So--what, you're visiting for the charming idyllic views of...grass? Monotony?"

"Can't you just be a normal person? Can't you just shake my hand, introduce yourself, and welcome me to Stars Hollow?"

"I'm unconventional."

"You're annoying."

The guy sighed. "To each their own, I suppose. I don't hear you announcing your identity either."

"Rory."

"Just Rory?" She paused before answering.

"Gilmore. Rory...Gilmore." The words felt strange on her tongue, but she supposed it was only to be expected. She waited for her assailant to make the next move, to ask some question about her relationship to Lorelai. It never came. After appraising her in silence, the dark haired guy reached out his hand. She took it, never breaking him gaze. He shook her hand twice, pointedly.

"Hi, I'm Jess." He said slowly, as if speaking to a child. "Welcome to Stars Hollow." Rory couldn't help it--she flushed underneath his eyes, and wished she would look away. She didn't. After a moment of silence, he reclaimed his hand and turned on his heel, and left the bookstore.

-

Rory reentered the diner to a tense scene. Luke stood over Lorelai, his face a dark mask. She sipped at her coffee and ignored him. Other townspeople ate quietly, laughing and arguing and looking for all the world like this was life, and they were satisfied. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, Rory walked over to her new guardian. Lorelai looked up and her face brightened.

"Child! Did you find anything at the bookstore?"

"Not really, but I can go back another time."

"We, we have a very special day planned."

"We do?" Rory asked.

"Yes. We get to clean out your room, and go buy room things. Bed sheets, posters, clothes hangers for your little closet, it'll be like that Sims game. Only bigger!"

Rory smiled at the woman's excitement.

"Sounds great."

Oh, sure, it sounded great. But at looking upon the room she was destined to stay in, Rory wasn't sure how accurate her original assessement had been. The room was piled to the brim with boxes and boxes or the most random idiosyncratic objects she had ever seen in her life. There was a giant rubber fish, countless headless barbie dolls, what appeared to be half a surfboard, an excersize bike, two manicans, and more. Rory had never believed so much pointlessness could be collected in one place, yet here it was--the largest lost and found in the world.

"What is all this?" She asked, picking up a cuckoo clock and dropping it back in it's box when it began chirping madly at her.

"My left overs. I couldn't find rooms to put it all in, so it ended up here."

"What do we do with all of it?"

"I suppose we can throw some of it out, and find somewhere else for the really important stuff."

Rory nodded and reached for the closest item sure to be trashed.

"No!" Lorelai objected, "Not my James Dean cutout! He doesn't deserve that!"

"You want to keep him!"

"Yes. Definitely." Lorelai snatched the cardboard man from Rory and hugged it, murmering in it's cardboard ear quiet soothing reassurances. Rory reached for a box filled with sequined plastic clothing, and looked questioningly at Lorelai.

"But what if mod comes back? Those are vintage staples, girly." Rory smiled and rolled her eyes, and picked up a roll of bubble wrap.

"What about this?"

Lorelai pouted. "But it's so...fun! What if I get the urge one day to pop some bubble wrap, and I've thrown it away?"

"Are you really going to keep _all_ of this? Where will you put it?"

"Well..." she tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I never use my garage anyway..." Rory smiled.


End file.
